


Make Me Forget

by Anonymous



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-28
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2020-09-28 11:09:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20424986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: During Summerslam weekend, both Pete and Ricochet are eager  to forget their subsequent losses  and can only think of one way to accomplish that.





	Make Me Forget

Pete is seething. It hadn't helped, his losing while knowing that Ricochet was backstage, watching. For him to eat the pin, too, no less... Fly all the way from the UK for this, he thinks, fists clenching and unclenching. He's tense through the rest of the show, only pretending to care about the matches that come after the triple threat, gritting his teeth to keep his rage within until Ricochet finds him and they leave for the hotel, the drive silent and seemingly taking forever until they find a parking spot and head inside.  
  
Pete keeps his eyes trained on a spot between his feet until they're off the elevator and Ricochet has unlocked their door, dropping his things carelessly by the bed. Ricochet wisely keeps his thoughts to himself and just watches as Pete paces around the room, prowling, lost in thought. His head shoots up when Ricochet calmly clears his throat, turning all of his rage and inner turmoil onto him instead. "You did your best, Pete," he says slowly, and Pete's anger only grows.  
  
"Don't patronize me," he snaps, watching with some satisfaction as Ricochet's shoulders slump. "I bloody ate the pin, I did not do my best." He storms forward and glares into Ricochet's eyes, jaw working furiously. "If you think that's my best, you clearly have forgotten what that truly is while I was away in the UK."  
  
He almost feels bad at the flicker of emotion in Ricochet's eye at that dig, but he pushes it down, grits his teeth and only leans into it, watching as Ricochet swallows, deciding to let that go. "I missed you, Pete," he says softly, and this, this kindness, this yearning, snaps something else deep inside of Dunne and before he knows what he's doing, he has Ricochet pinned against the wall next to the window, staring at him while his nails bite into Ricochet's shoulders, forearm pushed against his throat.  
  
"Say it again," he says, everything feeling too tight, too personal all of a sudden, the rushing in his ears leaving him dizzy and too overwhelmed to properly focus until Ricochet's hand rests gently on his arm, not trying to push him away but just holding onto him, and...  
  
"I missed you," he finally whispers, throat moving convulsively against Pete's arm and Pete quickly drops it, letting Ricochet catch a full breath before he's on him, lips pressed against Ricochet's, hard and unforgiving, as he forcefully licks into him, tasting Ricochet as he opens up willingly and moans, clinging to Pete's back, hands gliding along his spine in a way that makes heat flood Pete's veins, distracting him briefly from how angry and disappointed he is at such a ridiculous loss barely two hours earlier.  
  
He has no patience, tearing at Ricochet's clothes, his jeans dropping quickly to pool around his ankles, Ricochet struggling to kick them and his shoes off until Pete pulls away and tugs them all off in quick, jerky motions, kicking his own shoes and pants away as well while he's focused elsewhere for a moment. Ricochet's mouth is open, lips forming a thanks, when Pete is back, forcing him against the wall as he presses tightly against him, devouring his mouth in sharp, fast kisses that leaves Ricochet arching against him, the feel of his bare thighs and slick heat against Pete's body leaving him hungry and even more frustrated. He grips Ricochet's preppy ass looking shirt and half tugs, half tears it off of him, ignoring Ricochet's half formed protest before he's doing the same to his own.  
  
There's nothing between them now as Pete pins Ricochet against the wall, curling his fingers around Ricochet's jaw and holding him in place as he bites and tugs at his lip, their tongues gliding together as Ricochet pants and moans, still clinging at him as if he's his only lifeline in this moment. Pete grows weary of this and works his leg between Ricochet's, grinding up into him and Ricochet lets out a loud, muffled whine as Pete ruts against his thigh, not gentle, just yearning for some sort of release, some kind of victory tonight. He's still barely able to think, just needing touch and sensation and release, not even caring about the noises Ricochet is making as he searches out more pressure and grips Ricochet's hips, until some of Ricochet's babble breaks through because it's something Pete is always careful to pay attention to, never wanting Ricochet to doubt-- even when things are bad, and Pete's stuck in his own head, angry and bitter and--  
  
"I love you, Pete," Ricochet pants against his jaw, voice wrecked and trembling and Pete almost recoils, but he catches himself, still rolling his hips steadily as Ricochet's fingers spasm against his sides, trembling and clenching like he does whenever he's close. "Oh my God-- so... s-- so much..."  
  
Pete grits his teeth, focusing on those stammered words, easing back from the heat pulsing between his legs, so close that it hurts to pull away, but he manages it, shaking his head as he readjusts himself against Ricochet, lining them up better so that they're rutting directly into each other instead of their thighs. Ricochet's eyes are wide, blown with arousal and need, and Pete stares into their dark depths for a moment. He doesn't have it in him for affection or gentle lovemaking right now, but he knows Ricochet deserves something, something more than a rushed, angry quickie against the wall. So he grips him, hoists him up and waits until he wraps his legs around him, bracing him with one hand against his back. "Good?" he asks tersely as Ricochet nods, burying his face in Pete's shoulder as his rolls his hips, the slick, repetitive sound of their bodies meeting echoing through the room.  
  
Ricochet's breaths against Pete's ear are loud, shaky, his body held tense and desperate as he searches for sweet release, panting harder with each roll of his hips against Pete's leaving him unfulfilled and trembling. "I can't," he moans, body close to losing its rhythm as he's overwhelmed by the sensations. "I feel it, it's right there, but I-- I--" He tries to shift positions but the wall keeps him from moving too much and Pete's nails bite into his back, steadying him and keeping him in place. "So close, so..."  
  
Pete finally moves, deciding to help, his hand gliding slowly down Ricochet's back to settle at the bottom of his spine, rubbing slow, lazy circles against his tail bone, before sinking lower, and in, Ricochet's entire body tensing against Pete's at this sudden penetration. Pete swallows, amazed at how Ricochet is clenching around him, arching back to take him in further and deeper, his chest pressed flush against Pete's as he tries to position himself just right between Pete's body and the incredible pressure inside of him, never quite able to achieve this on his own.  
  
"P-- Pete," he wavers, hips stuttering, dripping heavily and making their motions against each other faster, slicker, louder. "Ohhh-hhhhh...." When Ricochet is right on the edge, his voice gets high pitched and his body quivers, and Pete almost smiles at these so obvious signs.  
  
He closes his eyes for a moment, easing his finger free, the flash of shock and loss on Ricochet's face haunting Pete until he shifts, thrusting two fingers back deep inside of Ricochet, not surprised when Ricochet immediately clenches around him and comes with a deep, low cry of his name, body arching up as his muscles spasm, each wave of the orgasm captivating to Pete as he watches and feels Ricochet's body slowly settle, relax into the mind-altering state of pleasure that almost always follows such an intense climax.  
  
Not wanting to disrupt Ricochet, he eases his hand between them and finishes himself off with a few, rough jerks, resting his forehead against Ricochet's as he pants and groans through his own release. When he's once more in control of himself, he's not surprised to find Ricochet staring back at him, eyes dark and sated, a soft smile on his lips. "Feel better?"  
  
"Yes," Pete sighs, careful not to drop Ricochet as he steps back from the wall and eases him down to stand properly on the floor. They stay like that for a few moments, still drawn together even in this sleepy, tingling post-release place they find themselves in, before Pete reaches up and brushes at Ricochet's bruised lips, not ashamed or guilty by it in the slightest, just watching as his thumbs work over the discoloration. "You destroy AJ Styles tomorrow night and reclaim what's yours."  
  
Ricochet exhales, roughly, then nods. "I will."  
  
He doesn't. He loses again and it's a grim looking, disappointed Ricochet that follows Pete through the halls this time, quiet and lost in thought until they can leave for the hotel. Pete keeps glancing at him now and again, but Ricochet doesn't seem to notice or care until the door closes behind them and he stares out of the window for a moment before turning to look at Pete. "Last night," he says, and damn even his voice sounds defeated, "how angry you were... you dominated me against that wall right there, and I... I liked it, and I forgot everything for a few minutes. Could you... could you do that again? And maybe harder this time, so I can really feel it? I-- I mean, unless you have anything else to do..."  
  
Pete stares at him, shaking his head slowly. Ricochet's face falls and he backs away. "That-- that's fine," he finally stammers out. "I understand, who would want to be involved with a loser like m--"  
  
Pete moves before he can finish the sentence, cradling his skull and drawing him in for a slow, long kiss that leaves Ricochet gasping and clinging to him, toes curling in his boots, that kind of all-encompassing kiss that leaves you fuzzyheaded and yearning for more.   
  
"P-- Pete--"  
  
"I'm not going to be rough with you tonight," Pete informs him, "because it's not what you need or deserve right now."  
  
"But last night--"  
  
"Last night was what I needed," Pete explains. "And you gave me that, so let me take care of you tonight." His touch is slow, lazy, along Ricochet's ribs, and Ricochet shivers, nodding slowly. He gasps as Pete hoists him up and carries him over to the bed, depositing him before stepping back and looking down at him, a smirk slowly crossing his face.  
  
"Pete," he says in a slow, defeated exhale, and Pete shifts forward, untying Ricochet's shoes and tossing them aside before moving for his pants. As he works over the zipper, Ricochet reaches out and stops him with a hand over his wrist. Their eyes meet and Ricochet shivers. "Wh... why...?"  
  
Pete can see the doubts and recriminations swirling around in Ricochet's head and it just annoys him, so instead of offering him an answer, he hoists Ricochet's hand up and kisses him flat on the palm before setting it to the side, getting back to work on Ricochet's clothes. He quickly slips his pants off, then tugs the weird vest off of his shoulders before easing his shirt up over his head. Ricochet is staring up at him in some sort of awe as Pete kneels back on the edge of the bed to look him over, clearly liking what he's seeing. "Hm," he says low, voice deep and lustful as he grazes a hand up Ricochet's leg, resting high on his thigh, fingers just short of grazing his briefs.  
  
"Pete," Ricochet groans, biting his lips afterwards. "Please..."  
  
Pete leaves his boxers as they are, but slips a hand inside of them, grazing Ricochet's hot flesh, tracing circles against his skin, smearing the beginning drips of precome around. Ricochet's hips arch and he gasps, staring up at the ceiling, and Pete eases closer, getting a good look at his face before hooking his fingers into the clinging fabric, tugging it down and leaving every inch of Ricochet bared to him. He hums, allowing himself more time to properly look the man over, enjoying how he twitches and trembles, trying to be patient under Pete's gaze. Finally, Pete loses patience and leans in, nuzzling between Ricochet's thighs, trailing his tongue up and tasting him.  
  
The wild, deep noise Ricochet makes goes straight to Pete's core, all the blood rushing downwards and making it hard to focus as he seals his lips around Ricochet's erection. "Holy shit, Pete--" His toes curl, digging into Pete's ankles, as Pete continues to mouth at him, tongue twisting around his throbbing flesh, lapping at the precome steadily leaking out of him. "Pl--" His words fail him as Pete sinks down further, taking him deeper in, hand warm on his thighs, parting his legs to give Pete more room to work. Ricochet's so lost in the sensations, how warm Pete's tongue is, how perfectly it fits around him, that he doesn't notice when he's being shifted around.  
  
Until, that is, Pete's fingers begin grazing again, trailing lazily up the backs of his legs, teasing where Pete's mouth rests for a moment before his hand works backwards, tracing over his muscles, trailing soft shapes against his cheeks. Ricochet pants-- moans-- scrabbles for purchase-- tries to think of something to say, when Pete twists his tongue around him once more and echoes the motion with his fingers, circling around his entrance slowly. "Ahhh--"  
  
Pete smirks around him, looking up with a lifted eyebrow and Ricochet shudders, his fingers tangling in Pete's hair, eager just to have something to hold on to and having difficulty with Pete all the way down there, unable to see or touch him as his mouth works magic that leaves Ricochet already circling his climax. "Pete," he all but sobs, exhaling roughly when Pete continues teasing him with just a little more pressure of his fingers here, his lips working further down his throbbing flesh there.  
  
And then, just as suddenly as it'd all come, it's gone, leaving Ricochet cold and in shock as he's sharply forced back into reality, cold and shivering at the sudden lost of Pete's tongue, of his fingers, the warmth of his weight against his legs. "Pete--"  
  
Pete doesn't say anything and Ricochet is too shocked and disappointed to move, stuck staring at the ceiling and trying to figure out what's going on, when the bed dips. Ricochet feels himself getting moved, re-positioned, hoisted back onto the pillows. Pete is back, but he's naked now too, and Ricochet blinks dumbly at him, hoping-- for a wild moment-- that Pete will resume working his magic with his mouth, his fingers, but instead, he cups Ricochet's jaw and searches his face, smirking just a little before pressing another slow, intense, head-spinning kiss to his lips. He then grips Ricochet by the thighs and hoists him up, settling him in his lap.  
  
"Wha--"  
  
His words once more fail him as he feels Pete thrust up, the slight sting and then warm pleasure as he's being stretched, filled so perfectly that even Pete's fingers couldn't accomplish it. He whimpers at the sudden, overwhelming sensation and Pete pauses, pulling back to search his face, looking uncertain. "Hey--"  
  
"Took you long enough," Ricochet says, collecting himself and grinning a little as Pete relaxes and rolls his eyes, allowing Ricochet to tangle their fingers together, holding on as Pete braces him with his free hand and starts thrusting up into him, slow and steady rolls of his hips sending him in further bit by bit, Ricochet's mouth parting as he feels himself opening up more and more to accommodate Pete, his body arching up with each thrust, the angle changing enough that Ricochet can feel Pete getting close, his muscles clenching around him. "Pete--" Ricochet moans, bending his knees on either sides of Pete's hips and crying out as Pete's next thrust slides all the way inside of him, this new angle giving them the perfect friction, their bodies pressed so tight together that Ricochet isn't sure where his orgasm originates and Pete's ends, it feeling like they just keep milking more ecstasy from the other with each sharp pulse through his body, Pete pressing sloppy kisses along Ricochet's shoulder, his collarbone, along his throat, until finally they slump, absolutely spent, Ricochet panting and digging his knees into Pete's sides every time Pete tries to move him.  
  
"No," he moans, clinging more desperately to Pete. "Please--"   
  
Pete eases off, appearing comfortable with just sitting there and holding him for awhile longer. Ricochet thinks he should feel guilty for making him hold him up after all of this, but he lets it go, needing the closeness, enjoying losing himself in the steady warmth of Pete. He thinks he's about to fall asleep when he feels Pete kiss the side of his face, shifting his face to press his lips against Ricochet's ear. "I love you too," he tells him and Ricochet barks out a sharp, startled laugh, remembering what he'd said the day prior in a position much similar to this one.  
  
"You always take your time with this stuff, huh?" he asks sleepily.  
  
"Just making sure it's worth your while when I do say it," he says with a smirk, watching as Ricochet drifts, finally falling asleep in his arms with a soft smile on his face, all self-doubt and fear following his loss to AJ far away, at least for right now.


End file.
